Captured
by MissteeFiction
Summary: Edward Masen is a convicted killer on death-row. Seargent Isabella Marie, who loathes criminals, is instructed to visit the prison as a prison guard and report whether ethical protocol is being followed. What happens when stars align between an inmate and an officer of the law? Unethical practices. Rated M for language, violence, Jailward & more.
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**Disclaimer: All characters of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am just the writer of this little beauty – _Captured._**

**WARNING: **

This story contains descriptive images, violence, language & more. Rated M. Please be advised.

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**Chapter 1 - Prologue: **_Where it all began..._

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**Tuesday, 21st October**

**07:40 PM**

The sky is dark blue with swirls of lilac; glittered with stars. Soft music plays in the Newton household as Mrs. Newton brushes her hair in front of her dressing table, wondering if this was truly _her_ life.

She sighs lethargically and routinely braids her hair, her eyes blank as she stares into the mirror whilst she does her task.

Her husband is passed out cold on his bed – _their bed_, she reminds herself. She wonders why she married him. Perhaps it was his boyishly handsome looks, his blonde hair or the idea that someday he could give her the world... and he had. Then, she yearned for materialistic things, and Michael seemed to be her best bet. Now, she craved comfort and sincerity. She craved closeness. To love and be loved.

_Oh, poor Jessica_, her friends would snarkly say, as if her problems were miniscule compared to theirs.

The rest of the people slept, and so she decided to do so as well, meanwhile the outside world had other problems brewing.

**08:59**

The air is perfumed in black smoke creating an eery atmosphere around the usually quiet block. The clock strikes nine, an odd time for such an astounding scene considering the town hardly had any drama. Alas, the smoke signals alarm loudly and awaken the neighbours, who all worriedly jump out of their beds to peruse the cosmic array of red-orange blur opposite their homes in discernment.

The first observers, the Newton family, all stare incredulously at the burning house with puzzled expressions as they process the sight before them.

Mr. Newton reaches for his cellphone and dials 911 immediately; _reporting a fire and possible danger at the Mason household_. Minutes later SUVs and fire trucks pull up alongside paramedics.

Mr. Masen is the first body to be discovered, his arms bruised and dangly; scraped in dust and burnt with wounds as they rush him out of the house. It's too late though. He's already gone.

The sweet scent of rain settles in the air and tiny droplets begin to shower down onto them; calming them.

"There's a girl!" someone reports over the intercom, just as everyone loses faith, his voice fuzzy and overwhelming.

"Copy that. Is she alive? Over."

"Yes, I think so. Send them in. She's stuck. Over."

"On it. Over and out." The man turns to his right to address his fellow firemen, indicating they should move forward.

"Quick, get the girl and search for any other sign of life. Make sure you carry her out carefully," he snaps, and they all nod their heads in understanding before hurrying into the burning household. Others watch, whilst others attempt to rid of the rapid fire.

There's an unsettling silence. Everyone holds their breath as they latch on their family members and wait in suspense and hope.

"Sir," a voice rings out and everyone stills, unmoving... not blinking. "We found her. She's alive. Over."

The man sighs in relief before straightening his posture with confidence and the crowd visibly relaxes. "Good. Description?"

"Possibly fourteen to fifteen years old, sir. Blond hair, blue eyes. Over."

"Rosalie!" an anguished voice cries as the firemen hurry out of the house, carefully carrying a tiny blonde girl in their arms. Hushed murmurs and whispers emit amongst the crowd as some begin to wonder what really happened on this terrible night.

"Is she burnt?!" the woman demands, her eyes fearful and crazed as she grabs at the girl's body frantically. "Please. God **_Please_**."

"Ma'am, step back," the officer instructs as they place the girl onto a stretcher and attach an oxygen mask to her pale face. "She'll be okay. We're taking her to the hospital. Can you show me identification and proof of relation to this girl?"

"Uhm... I'm Esme... their _aunt_," the lady manages in between hiccups. "Here–" she shakily reaches into her purse for something before handing it to the officer who peruses it in quiet observation before nodding his head and directing her to the paramedics. She hops into the indicated van and gasps at her little niece, unscathed aside from the purpley bruises which line her forearms and cheekbones – she wasn't surprised though, deep down she knew that those bruises weren't inflicted in the event of the fire.

Her one hand finds Rosalie's slightly cold one while the other rests on her heart as she begins to quietly pray.

Esme frowns at the slight movement of the girl and sniffing she turns Rosalie's hand over. Her knuckles are bruised, the skin pink with cuts. Black febrise underline her partially long nails, her pink nail polish fading. She smooths Rosalie's dirty blond hair to the side which mats her forehead and begs, _wills,_ her to open her eyes.

"Rose," Esme exhales pleadingly, tears and dirt soaking her waitress t-shirt but she doesn't care. "Please."

At the Masen's household, another body is discovered – Elizabeth Masen – Mr. Masen's wife. Her eyes are wide, her face pale and disarming as they zip the bag and her face slowly disappears.

Handcuffed, a young boy is dragged out, shirt torn and dirty, his face bruised and dull as they shove him into the back of a police car.

"You're coming with us, son," the officer snaps, voice cold and foreboding as he slams the backdoor and hops into the front.

The car slowly disappears down the street, and the boy watches... as his house fades in the distance until all he can see is a red-orange blur, smoke and red-blue lights painted into his memory.

Although, it may seem that the sight of losing everyone he loves may be disorientating to the observers – it would be the callous green eyes, devoid of any sadness or pain, that left an unsettling feeling in the pit of Mr. Newton's stomach.

Indeed, the possibly eighteen year old bronze-haired boy, sporting bruises up to his face, skin black with dirt and blood, is the image that would haunt Mr. Newton for the rest of his life.

The unsettling image of **_Edward Masen Cullen _**as his face disappeared into the darkness.

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**A/N: **Soooo... What do you'll think? Let me know if you want more & if you like the plot idea ;)

Leave me some reviews in the review section and hit that follow/favorite button pleaaase :D

Also, check out my other story _Let Me Sign _– a TVD/Twilight crossover if you're a Damon lover ;)

Enjoy your day/night!

K bye!

Kisses, MissTee


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All characters of Twilight belong to SM. I just like playing with their lives. **

**WARNING:**

This story contains descriptive images, violence, language such as swearing more things containing Jailward.

BE WARNED.

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**Chapter 2 - **_I confess_

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Being a town where drama was very scarce, it was obvious that gossiping would transpire on occasion. The horrid stories of the Masens spread like wildfire in an open veld; no pun intended. News travelled rapidly in Forks; a tiny little town on the cusp of Washington D.C with very few people – 3545 to be exact.

A _gloomy_ town as some may say, then perhaps it was the mirror image of how depressed many of the townies felt. Although, Forks wasn't all clouds and raindrops. La Push First Beach, the home of the Quileutes, was a popular spot for teenagers to have fun and throw bon-fire ragers – parties that all Forks High students attended to escape their dull lives, despite it being only for the students on the Reservation.

_Rules were meant to be broken,_ Edward Masen had always said when he dragged his little sister, Rosalie, along with him and commanded her to wait for him whilst he got drunk and made out with random girls.

Now, on this particular night, Edward Masen was the reason the teenagers gathered around the bon-fire to share their gossip stories on why they believed Edward Masen was shoved into the back of a police cruiser.

"My mom said that he beat his father up and that Rosie killed them all so Edward's taking the blame!"

"No, duuuude. My dad said that her father hurt her so Edward beat the crap outta him."

"How does that explain their mom, dufus?"

"I think she died in the fire," a somber voice murmured behind them. All eyes turned to study the tiny pale girl, hair jet-black and spiky as it shaped her face forming an invisible halo. They stared at her clothes in puzzlement but not surprise as she stood confidently donning a black high-waisted skinny jeans which had too many rips to classify as a jeans, trinkled by a silver chain on her hip which she made a note of wearing everywhere, a _Thrasher's_ t-shirt and black Doc Martens.

She glared at them despite her obvious lack of height, and it may not be possible in some cases but it was certainly intimidating.

"Why do you all even care," she spat, her eyes cold and menacing as her words sliced through the marijuana thickened air. "You don't even know Edward."

"Well, we just thought..."

"Thought what?!" she snapped, her black nails shimmering in the moonlight. The shadow of the fire glistened and cascaded upon her face and they all jumped at her giggle.

"I'm just fucking with you!" she rejoiced, a coy smile appearing on her face, she softened her tone as she reached for the joint in Riley's hand. "So, are we going to sit and gossip like pussies or are we going party?" the emo-girl commented sarcastically, and the crowd roared with laughter before continuing with whatever else they were doing.

"You're so hot, Ali," Riley whispered, his eyes hooded, which she figured was from the weed, as he drank her appearance in with a dimpled smile on his face.

"Shut up, Ri. What do you care anyway," Alice Brandon shot back, smirking before she walked away, leaving him staring in awe at her back.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"I'm not going to ask you again," the officer warned. "What happened?"

Edward Masen sighed, leaning back but only as far as the cuffs that were strapped to the table would allow him. The atmosphere remained tense, but Edward was left unbothered.

"Technically, you just asked again," Edward commented just as the officer slammed his hand onto the cold grey table in exasperation.

"Kid, we can be in here all night," the officer threatened but his frustration did little for his warning. Edward knew he'd do good on his word though, but he refused to speak. He studied his nails, chipped and dirty with febrise.

"Edward," the officer relented. "You need to speak, Kid, or you're going to go to prison."

Edward's eyes remained downcast. He had already known the consequences of his actions but he didn't care – she'd be safer now without _him _in the world. He may have missed her, but he felt relieved, elated even that _he _wouldn't be able to lay his...

"Son," a familiar voice spoke and Edward's eyes shot up in surprise, his eyes finding the source in the clear mirror but he only found his own emotionless appearance. He suspected that there were others behind that mirror silently studying him. He wasn't wrong. "Let me speak to him," the man begged behind the glass, his tone irritated.

After a moment, the man stepped in and Edward didn't have to look twice. His shoes, black and polished was the first thing he noticed about the man as he stepped into the interrogation room. _A man's shoes will tell you whether they're intelligent or not, Son,_ Edward's father had always said and Edward always remembered this everytime he stared at his own shoes – worn-out, dirty Chuck-Taylor's.

"Carlisle," the officer greeted, his tone curt as he accepted Carlisle's handshake.

"Emmett," Carlisle replied, studying his expression before turning to face Edward with a bemused look. "May I have the room?"

Emmett sighed but did as he was asked.

"Edward," Carlisle said firmly. "Tell me right now what happened."

Edward's face visibly hardened as he stared into Carlisle's challenging eyes. _I won't speak,_ he repeated to himself.

_I won't speak._

"Why do you refuse to co-operate with these officers, Edward? You can get out of this if you just speak. Your future..."

"My future means nothing," Edward's voice snapped, echoing in the small room. He frowned at the sound of it – hoarse from yelling – painful.

He stared into space as he recollected the events of the day before.

"Speak!" the man huffed and Edward sighed, shoving his head into his hands.

"And say what Carlisle? My life is over!"

He knew this and he accepted it.

"It doesn't have to be. Just speak."

"_Fine,_" he spat, his eyes glaring into Carlisle's.

Carlisle stood in satisfaction, feeling accomplished as he buttoned his blazer before he exited the room. The officer, Emmett, entered, his eyes impatient as he waited for Edward's response.

"I confess."

"_What_?" the officer asked as if he'd heard wrong.

"I confess," Edward repeated. "I killed my parents."

"**_Edward!" _**Carlisle stormed in with fury, his eyes daring Edward to utter another word.

"I issue Edward Cullen to be imprisoned immediately until a judge makes a final decision."

"Edward, what are you doing?!" Carlisle screamed in frustration as they pulled Edward's willing body up and dragged him out of the interrogation room. "Don't say another word until I get there!"

"Sir, you need to leave," Emmett instructed, gesturing for Carlisle to leave.

"Get your hands off of him. I am his lawyer and he is under the age of eighteen!" Carlisle reminded them.

Emmett shrugged. "Only for another month. We'll wait."

Carlisle huffed, kicking the chair over as he gripped at the roots of his blonde hair in frustration.

Edward turned at the noise and smirked, his eyes blank as he nodded his head in greeting, before slowly disappearing down the alley where they escorted him out of the building. He basked in the image of the sun as it shone on him, and the town that everyone resented, which appeared greener than ever. He took it all in. Every bit of it locked into his memory. The scent of the pollen, the sweet trees and the dewy raindrops that flattened his hair and rolled down his cheeks, mixing with his tears.

He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to revel in the beauty of the outside world, and fearing it would be his last chance, he allowed himself to succumb to his final moments.

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**A/N: **Enjoying the story? Then hit that FAVOURITE/FOLLOW buttons because I post every week, once a week :D

Leave me some love. Don't be shy. I enjoy reviews. They're so interesting to read ;)

K bye!

kisses, Mistee


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All characters of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. I am just the writer of this little beauty – _Captured._**

**WARNING:**

This story contains descriptive images, violence, language & more. Rated M. Please be advised.

* * *

**Chapter 3: **_We are all broken_

* * *

**"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."**

– Hemingway

* * *

In every town there's gossip, but in Forks Washington in particular, drama was rare. This is why Lauren Mallory and her possie took it upon themselves to start a typical young-mother's book club – where they indulged in classy red wine and pretended to share opinions on a novel they never really read – an excuse to spread the latest gossip amongst one another and create juicy rumours.

It was no surprise that Edward Masen would be the talk of their latest meet up – and of course, they were all too eager. Some more than others.

"Well, ladies, welcome back to our book club!" Lauren greeted as though it were the first time she was being introduced to the group. The ladies smiled fakely with red lips that stained their glasses, which they clinked together dramatically.

"Today we're starting on my favourite novel; Fifty Shades of–"

"Oh, God, Lauren! Not this again," Angela Cheney, the saint of the town, remarked. "I joined this club to read educational novels and share actual opinions, not discuss sex novels!"

"Oh, please, Angela, I'm sure you're overreacting!" Lauren said snidly, showing off pearly white teeth and gleaming eyes.

Angela stiffened on her seat opposite Lauren and fussed with her blouse – a form of distraction from the menacing glare directed towards her.

"Besides," – Lauren grinned – "You could learn a few useful tips from the book, you know... what with all the nonsense going on regarding your love-life, or lack thereof," she finished snarkly.

Angela's cheeks pinked and she briefly wondered why she even bothered to show up for Lauren's stupid book club, but she knew why – she needed this. She had no other excitement in her life. All her husband ever did was spend his free time in his office and even when they were together, he would put his work first. Always.

She craved attention.

Anything.

She reveled in those moments where she could be a part of something greater than her excuse of a life; a tedious routine.

A forlorn sigh escaped Angela at the mere thought of attending Sunday church with Ben. Having to plaster a pretentious smile on her face was never easy, and she certainly didn't look forward to it.

"Perhaps, we should begin?" Jessica, always the voice of reason, cut in. Jessica's eyes held no light, only darkness as she stared somberly into space.

She recalled the past week's events and grimaced sourly at how horrid it had been.

She felt disgust at herself for fretting over her miniscule problems when others faced real life issues, others such as the Masen family.

She felt sympathy for them, and poor Edward... her heart sped up at the glimpse of a memory of him. Bronzed and handsome.

Lauren's high-pitched voice shook her from her reverie, and she emerged from her thoughts as if she'd been lost underwater. Shifting awkwardly, her face quickly dissolved into a blank expression.

She observed the ladies with squinted eyes in accusation, praying to the heavens that they didn't know her terrible terrible secret.

God, if they knew, they wouldn't hesitate to judge her. They'd turn on her and tell each and every single townie about her mistakes until she had nothing and no-one. Not even her delusional husband; Mike. They'd throw her to the wolves the first chance they got and walk away unaffected.

"Have you all heard..." and so it began.

Jessica resisted an eyeroll, hating herself for partaking in this pointless book club that served no purpose aside from it being a distraction.

"Edward Masen plead guilty, did you hear?"

Her eyes shot to Lauren who smirked omniously at the group whilst discussing an innocent young boy's uncontrollable fate.

_God, they're such bitches, _she thought bitterly.

She stifled a smile at the voice in her head which was Angela's, scolding her for using the Lord's name in vain. Her eyes found Angela's sad ones – _hang in there_ – it begged and she attempted to do so.

* * *

"Rosalie..." gentle voices murmured and she stirred slightly, searching for the source of those comforting voices. She struggled and begged her body to respond, but her mouth refused and she succumbed to the darkness.

Rosalie Masen was the daughter of Edward Sr. and Elizabeth Masen – also Edward's little sister.

The peanut butter to his jelly, the spoon to his bowl, the apple of his eye.

She was, as some might say, 'the-girl-next-door', but only the few that really understood her, knew the spunk that she held. Part of that few was Rosalie's only brother.

Rose had always depended on him, as much as she hated to admit it; mostly because he had been the father figure she never had throughout her entire life on this earth, and a better one than her wretched father no doubt.

She realised that this was why she couldn't refuse him of anything.

* * *

_**Some time ago**_

_**Before the incident...**_

_The Masen Household:_

"Rose, c'mon, it's just one last party!" Edward demanded, his dark green eyes piercing hers – and she knew why – as she rolled her equally menacing blue eyes at his paranoia. _**He'd** be __at work, _Rose reasoned with herself, _**he** wouldn't be able to hurt me._

Edward was being silly.

"You always say that, Teddy!" she jibed, falling onto his bed in exasperation as she began to pick at her nails in silence. The springs bounced and the bed shook.

The nickname 'Teddy' is what Rose had opted for instead of 'Edward' or 'Eddie', both names her pigtails-and-no teeth-self couldn't pronounce. It stuck ever since.

"I know, but this time I mean it," he lied smoothly, and if Rose hadn't known her brother so well, she'd actually fall for his bullshit.

And that was saying something. Edward was undoubtedly one of the best liars she had come across over her lifespan, so fortunately for her, she knew him better.

Edward could handle himself of course, but then he'd end up ditching her only to swap saliva with the next best thing.

The night would proceed this way, until Edward's liver couldn't handle anymore liquor, then Rose would have to drag his limp self to the car and get him home even though she wasn't legally of age to do so. This would be followed by Rose having to hold back his hair while he puked all the alcohol he'd downed into their toilet bowl, along with everything that was once edible.

She stared at him with pitiful eyes.

_Why do you do this to yourself?_

Though she knew why; she wished he had other ways of dealing with his pain.

Edward could be seen as very cynical in most cases, but there was a reason for his madness. Despite how deeply melancholic some may say he is, Edward had a light in him that not many had the privilege of seeing.

**_His pain is just deeply routed in him, it's going to take a tough girl to break through his tough exterior_**, she told herself too many times to count. She refused to accept that her brother wouldn't find love.

That did not mean she could not feel annoyance toward him.

She glared at him as if to say "yeah right" and he chuckled in frustration. He grumbled dramatically as he stumbled over to his closet to retrieve a hoodie despite her disagreeing. It was their usual exchange — they'd banter back and forth and then she'd cave in.

"You should stop watching _Lie to Me_," he suggested, tossing her his bag of weed and lighter which she reluctantly stuffed into her bra.

Flipping him the bird at his poor offense and the weird face he pulled at her choice of a hiding spot, she stood up to grab her own hoodie out of her bedroom and he followed her idly.

"Fine, but can I _at least_ have one beer?" she asked hopefully, trying her luck but already accepting the fact that she knew his answer would be —

"–No! Now let's go before the asshole gets back."

Rose snorted at his remark and shut the lights off in her bedroom. Double checking that she locked that shit up, she joined him outside.

"Okay, I call dibs on the driver's seat!"

"Fuck no," he said simply, laughing as if her request was absurd. She tossed him the keys which she had obviously stolen from his desk and stuck out her tongue in false amusement.

"You can call shotgun though," he offered playfully just to taunt her.

Despite their bickering, he knew it would pass. They had too much of an understanding to fight over petty bullshit.

"Will Alice Brandon be there?" Rose asked nosily, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of vulnerability. _Well, most times they didn't, _Edward thought sarcastically.

He sighed irritably, his calm demeanor quickly disappearing. "Who gives a fuck if she's there?"

The engine roared to life as he pulled onto the road, and he stared ahead, observing the clear blue night-sky.

"You do... You know it's why you even bother going to these parties..."

"Rose," he warned. She bit her tongue, despite her need to know more. Shifting so she was more comfortable, she placed her feet on the dashboard, even though she knew Edward loathed it.

"Fine." She relented, folding her arms across her chest. Moments passed in silence until suddenly she jolted in her seat and squealed in excitement, an act which would have surprised Edward if he wasn't so used to it already.

"My song!" she exclaimed, turning on the volume button as _Coconut Records _blazed over the radio. The music seemed to ease the tension.

"_One of us is right, one of us is wrong hey!" _Rose sang, bobbing her head to the music. Edward settled.

"_You are my voice, my microphone!" _he chorused, joining in on her fun and she clicked her fingers in encouragement, spurring him on.

The moment ended too quickly, and Edward gestured for his 'shit'.

"Pass me the joint... in the bag," he said pointedly, and she did little to hide her disappointment.

"Wow, if only you'd actually say that to me."

He chuckled, shaking his head furiously. "No, you're way too young, Rosie!" the mere image of Rose smoking weed had him in fits and giggles.

She glared at his nickname for her.

"Whatever, _Eddie_," she shot back, satisfied at the scowl which appeared on his pale face.

He rested his head back, his one hand placing the joint between his parted lips while the other held the steering wheel in place, and she routinely moved to bring flame to the little bud, the luminosent orange glow setting the car alight.

_Tssss._

The fire swallowed the paper abruptly. She sniffed at the smell that polluted the air and quietly watched with disapproval as Edward laid back and inhaled the contents, his face contorting and pink as he held the smoke for a minute before exhaling coolly.

He coughed a little, but barely – already accustomed to the sensational burn that accompanied the pull. A ghost of a goofy smile took shape on his lips and he sighed languidly, relishing in the tingly feeling that oozed into his veins, his face flushed with warmth.

Rose grimaced in disgust at the stench, and he grinned already used to her reaction.

"Your eyes are so red... You must be very high," she commented dumbly. He shrugged – that was the criteria.

"Here," he spoke suddenly, offering her the joint. Rose sprang to attention, her eyebrows reaching the ceiling at the sight of his extended hand.

"Really?" she stuttered, snagging it before he could change his mind.

At first she studied the joint, but then she carefully placed it between her cracked lips. Without inhaling, she waited for Edward's approval and when he nodded she breathed in through her mouth – slowly at first, allowing it to build but somehow she underestimated the force behind her drag and ended up paying the price.

She sputtered, gasped and coughed as she struggled to soothe the burn igniting within her throat – an uncomfortable itch she attempted to scratch but failed miserably at doing.

Blinking the tears away, she handed the joint back to Edward's eager hands. Edward chuckled, accepting it before she could do any more damage.

"Wow," she wheezed and he bit his tongue. He wanted to poke fun at her but he knew she'd be pissed so he didn't. It would only aggravate the situation more and Rose could be stubborn. He didn't want to get on his little sister's bad side tonight.

"More?" he offered, testing her and she shook her head furiously. "That's what I thought."

She glowered at him, realising that this had been his agenda all along.

"Look at you, coughing up a fit."

"Shut up and drive, before I confront Alice Brandon for you and tell her–"

"Oh, shut up, sore loser!" Edward scoffed, laughing annoyingly. "Leave Alice Brandon out of this. We all know you hate her guts."

Rose flipped him the bird and returned to the mirror to fix up some lipgloss.

"She'll come around, Teddy. She's your best friend."

"I don't care, Rose."

"You're a dick."

"No, _Edward,_" he corrected. He was clearly amused instead of showing a hint of remorse and this pissed her off further.

"More like Eddick_."_

* * *

**_Currently_...**

_Forks __Hospital_

Esme sat uncomfortably in the stiff hospital chair alongside Rose's bed, while she patiently waited for her sweet niece to open her eyes and return to her, she sang softly.

She sniffed and shifted a little to grasp Rose's hand in hers, more for her own benefit.

"Sir, you cannot go in there–" a woman yelled loudly. Esme ignored the world, her eyes downcast and puffy from all the tears that had been shed. Her brother-in-law now lost to this world, and her sister Elizabeth...

A strangled sob escaped her cracked lips and she shut her eyes forcefully, praying that it would do the trick and cleanse her of the horrible images of Lizzy's lifeless body. It did little to help, the memory would forever be embedded within her mind, but she hoped it would get easier with time.

"Sir!"

The curtain yanked open and with its flowing, it revealed Carlisle, pale and teary-eyed as he struggled to speak.

"Oh, God! Is he...? Carlisle!" Esme shouted. She prayed that her deepest fears was simply that – a fear. Not reality.

He nodded bleakly, and approached her slowly only to fall onto his knees with his head in her lap.

"Oh! Our poor boy!" Esme gasped, her hand finding her aching heart.

"He confessed, Esme... He said he killed them..."

"Shh," she soothed her broken husband. "It's okay... It's going to be okay."

"I... this is all my fault!" Carlisle said suddenly, quick on his feet. Esme startled and stood up. Her grief quickly turned to rage.

"This isn't your fault, love! This is theirs. Elizabeth promised me... Lizzy, she said she would take good care of him! But she lied. And her horrible horrible husband..." a sob tore through her anger and she fell into the chair to hold her head. "I hate them. They deserved it," she said plainly. Her eyes shifted to Rose's fragile form – safe of any injuries aside from the purplish yellow bruises that marked her skin.

"_He_ deserved it. I'm glad he is dead."

"Esme–" Carlisle begged but she shook her head angrily.

"He did this to her. To our poor Edward! If Edward hadn't... I would have. He's a terrible man, a monster and he doesn't deserve our sympathy!"

"What about your sister–"

"She's as dead to me as he is."

Carlisle grimaced at her dark implication, but nodded either way. There was no way he could convince Esme otherwise. She was as stubborn as Edward; once she made up her mind, she wouldn't change it.

He observed them closely, and reflected on the horrible situation he found himself in – his poor niece lying on a hospital bed, his sister-in-law burnt to death along with her asshole of a husband – and Edward... paying for his actions. He would have to face prison not too long from now, and Carlisle knew this.

Even though he didn't think of his s... – of Edward capable of committing such an atrocious crime – he couldn't blame him.

After all it was Carlisle's fault. He caused this. It was his stupidity that led to this outcome.

A brief memory of Esme on a similar hospital bed pixelated in his mind, and although it may have been slightly fuzzy, he could never completely forget that night. As the clock struck twelve, his beautiful baby boy had been born.

He remembered her; Esme, how tough she'd been, hair matted with sweat but glowing with strength as she birthed his first child – at the age of sixteen and seventeen.

He shook his head, his heart aching painfully. He was nothing but a poser. He pretended to be Edward's uncle, and spoke bullshit about how Edward should work harder at being an honest man – when even he hadn't lived by his words.

But how could he tell Edward that the both of them, Carlisle Cullen and Esme Cullen, are his biological parents? How would they explain to him that circumstances had forced them to give him up to a more suitable family?

Only, unknowingly he had doomed Edward's life – he was to blame. Not Edward Snr. and certainly not Elizabeth.

Carlisle blamed himself for not being man enough to raise his own kid.

He knew there was no way he could tell Edward, or else he'd probably join Edward Snr. in his grave.

* * *

_**The next day...**_

_Forks County Jail_

"Masen," the officer announced, squiggly boots approaching him.

Edward sighed, his arm resting over his eyes to show his disinterest.

"You've got a visitor," the man spat. Edward didn't move a muscle. "Yo, kid. I said you've got–"

"I heard you Emmett Brandon," Edward cut the officer off coolly. "We all get it–" he sat up on the excuse of a bed, his feet dangling off the sides "– you're an asshole. No need to further prove your point."

Emmett grunted. "Do you want to see her or not?"

Edward's eyes perked up. "_Her..._"

Esme appeared at the entrance, her eyes bloodshot and glistening with unshed tears as she cautiously entered the room. Edward stiffened at the sight of her but quickly grounded himself.

Glaring at Emmett, he stood up. "Can you give us some space?"

Emmett just rolled his eyes and stood by the door. _Fucker._

"Edward–"

"Esme–"

He smiled sadly. Even though he hated to admit it, he always held a special place for his Aunty Es in his heart, no matter how dark said heart was.

"You okay, lovie?" her voice was raspy, a clear indication she'd been crying.

He shrugged, looking away. "Better than I deserve."

She inched closer toward the iron bars separating them. "He deserved it."

Edward's head shot up in surprise at her words, his eyes searching hers. "What..."

She nodded her head sternly. "You heard me," she replied darkly.

Does she really think...

"Esme, I didn't..."

"Time's up," Emmett the asshole officer stepped inside, much to Esme's dismay. Edward's shoulders sagged in defeat. Now she would never understand. It was too late.

"What do you mean 'time's up'" Esme repeated mockingly. "It's barely been five minutes!"

Edward snorted under his breath. Here time didn't matter.

"So. Time is up," Emmett emphasized. "We're meeting with a judge tomorrow at seven sharp. His lawyer may be present. They'll show you out–"

"I can show myself out!" she interrupted angrily, pulling out of his grasp. "Edward, I'll see you tomorrow. If any of these asshole officers touch you..."

Edward smirked. "Thank you, Aunt Es. I'll be fine. I can handle these pussies."

Esme laughed loudly. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow lovie," she said once again. Though her words held strength, her eyes were brimming with sadness.

Edward looked away, the sight too difficult to bare.

"You see, kiddo," Emmett started as she left. "Your actions affect those who love you. You need to own up–"

"She's none of your business," Edward spat between clenched teeth. The vein in his forehead threatened to pop as he stepped closer to the bars.

"You broke her," Emmett said plainly. His eyes held no remorse. Edward hated him.

He knew a lot about Emmett. He could tarnish Emmett's reputation in the blink of an eye. But he wouldn't... for her sake.

His best friend deserved more than her asshole of a brother.

"We are all broken," Edward answered after a while, staring Emmett dead in the eyes even though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

Emmett barely flinched.

"That we are."


End file.
